Archive of Our Own

Riku brings Sora home.

He didn’t know what he was expecting—he had spent so long chasing after Sora. Everything from when he was a kid and an angsty teen washed away as he had to spend the better part of two years running after his best friend. Right when a sanctuary was finally created for them, the war over, and their hearts ready to rest, Sora was out of his grasp again. He didn’t know what he was expecting when Sora was finally there.

It was beautiful; it was horrible; it was the best and the worst of times. Sora with his Keyblade and his tired grin and those pretty blue eyes, fought like it was the end of the world and maybe it was. Maybe if he let that one small Heartless to the side bite his leg, he would’ve lost the strength and collapsed.

But Riku was there. And it was beautiful, seeing Sora’s eyes go wide, a freed heart floating behind him. And it was horrible, tears rushing to his eyes, lips trembling. It was the best of times as he rushed to fight with Sora, and it was the worst of times when the fighting was over and there was only them. There was only them and a horrible truth in a world of untruths: they were far, far from their sanctuary.

The horrible truth suffocated them, but they were there. Both of them. So Sora limped to Riku, buried his head into his chest, and let out long, hard sobs.

“Kairi,” Sora whispered later, holding Riku’s shirt tightly. Riku vaguely wondered if he had nightmares about this before, being with his friends again before they disappeared. Riku vaguely wondered if Sora thought holding on to him would make him stay. Riku vaguely wondered if he could save Sora this time. “Is…she okay?”

Riku wasn’t an angsty teenager anymore. Of course, he was asking about Kairi—even if he didn’t love her, she was one of his best friends. One of the people he shared a childhood with, one of the most intimate of histories. And even if she wasn’t his best friend, even if she wasn’t his childhood friend, she was a friend. And Sora loves everyone; it’s how Riku learned to love. (And of course—Sora loves her, doesn’t he?) “She misses you.”

“I miss her.” They’re sitting into each other in the dark corner of a room (had Sora been staying here? It seems…awfully neat.) Sora provided little explanation for everything, anything. He wouldn’t say a single thing about the things he had seen and Riku could do nothing else but understand. He only led Riku here, and, of course, Riku followed. To this building tucked into the middle of everything, this room above the rest. “I miss everyone. How are…Donald and Goofy?”

Riku’s hands were firmly behind him, holding his torso up. His legs were open for the Sora that burrowed into him. His hands didn’t dare taint Sora any further. “They went to hell looking for you.”

“Hell? Really? Did you all think I was…?” Sora’s voice broke a little and Riku can’t give anything other than understanding. He can’t give Sora all his love—he can’t be that selfish—he can’t take all his worries, he can’t give him the light he thinks he’s lost.

“You told me before that you thought no one took you seriously. You remember that?” Riku said instead, staring down at the mess of brown hair. “I hope you know that…everyone takes you seriously. And…everyone loves you. Terra, Aqua, and Ventus went looking for you in the Realm of Darkness. Kairi dove into her heart to try to find you, and—”

Riku’s words didn’t have the intended effect. Sora shook and let out a quiet sob and Riku stiffened. He wanted to touch Sora’s heart, to reach and tug at the connections that bound him and his friends. The connections that he claimed he was nothing without when Riku knew he was so, so much more, but he didn’t do that. He tried to play the strings like a harp but he snapped them instead, and here Sora was, shaking and sobbing.

“And you’ll finally come home,” Riku whispered, fists balling. “You’re coming home.”

“It’s horrible here,” Sora whispered back. It’s like they’re kids again, telling scary stories in the dark, but this one terrified Riku the most. “It sucked without you.”

“You won’t be alone anymore, Sora. We’ll—”

“It sucked without you,” Sora repeated, his voice breaking. He pulled away for a moment just to look up at Riku, just for him to see those horribly, beautiful blue eyes glistening with tears and love and hurt. “Stop trying to save me, Riku. Please, be my friend. I miss my best friend.”

Riku couldn’t taint Sora any further, but his arms didn’t listen. His arms wrapped around Sora and pulled him firmly to his chest. His arms tightened until he heard a quiet gasp, until he felt Sora’s arms snake away from his shirt to around him, until he felt Sora move his head to his shoulder, until he felt Sora’s breathing slow. He kept tightening like he thought he could protect Sora from the world, until Riku remembered himself. Until he realized what he was doing, but by then it was too late.

Sora had stopped crying. And Riku was not a cruel friend. He did not pull away from Sora. He held him through his grief, through his mismanaged heartache, through his lonely yearning. He just held Sora.

And damn Riku to hell if he said he didn’t cry. Sora had stopped crying and then Riku was holding his best friend and sobbing into his hair. Riku didn’t know the last time he cried. He didn’t know if he ever had cried in his life, didn’t know if he was even capable of it. And yet, he was capable and more, body quivering with the severity of his loving.

Sora didn’t say anything and Riku didn’t say anything. Riku was not a cruel friend. He was a lonely friend whose best friend didn’t come home.

And finally, Riku brings Sora home.

(No, it wasn’t that easy. It was excruciating. It tore Riku and Sora into small, unrecognizable pieces and it tested them—it tested their patience and it tested their connection and it tested their dedication, their devotion.

But oh, if Riku wasn’t devoted to Sora.)

It’s hard. Sora wants to sleep so, of course, Riku lets him. Sitting on the edge of the pilot’s seat, Riku stares at the stars through the Gummi Ship’s viewport. When he was smaller, he dreamed of seeing the worlds and here he is, standing on the edge of them. And now, he feels even smaller than he was then. He feels like the stars are both welcoming him and pushing him away, and Riku doesn’t know where to go.

As if he’ll get any clarity, his fingers run over the controls. When was the last time Riku even flew a Gummi Ship? Riku had spent his time consumed over papers and studying data that was made to be incomprehensible. He hadn’t flown ships. He was trying to get to Sora.

“I don’t want to be a good friend yet, ‘ku,” Sora mumbled, fighting to stay awake. He didn’t want to sleep like he was scared he’d wake up and find his friends ten years older. “I’m not ready to…see them hurting. I’m a horrible person, I know. ’m not ready. I’m sorry.”

Riku ran a hand over his hair like when they were younger and Sora was scared of lightning and they had a season of storms, until Sora’s eyes fluttered one last time and he slumped in his seat. Riku took great care not to wake Sora as he balled up his jacket and used it as a pillow under his head.

Sora makes a soft noise behind him and Riku’s hands move on their own. It’s a second instinct—not flying, no, that took him a while to get the hang of it (probably a little shorter than it took Sora). It’s not second instinct, the way his hands grip the control, his back straightens. But going home is. It’s like finding the North Star, but Riku’s pretty sure you need to follow destinations for that.

Riku follows his heart, and that’s not a second instinct but something that’s slowly become a familiar burden. He follows it home.

The Islands are usually quiet, but it’s even quieter on the play island. The ship’s engine ruins the tranquility for a moment, but it’s only an awful moment before it’s peaceful again. Riku stands and looks at their home through the viewport. Stardust obscures his view, but he’s able to see that it’s night with no one to take Sora from him.

Running a hand over his bare arms, Riku turns to Sora. When they left that world, his clothes returned to what he last wore and it was cruel. It made Riku’s heart ache, and it made it all the worse now that he has to pull Sora out of his sleep, starlight pouring over his face.

Riku lets the walk to Sora take long. He lets himself drink in the way Sora breathes softly, the way his nose scrunches, and he gets drunk off Sora’s peaceful expression. But Riku’s heart makes his feet speed up when Riku realizes how much he misses Sora’s smile.

He crouches in front of the seat, stopping himself before he dares run another hand through Sora’s hair. “Sora,” he whispers. “We’re home.”

It takes a few more tries before Sora finally wakes up, the same fantasy-like haze overtaking him as when he fell asleep. His eyes are unfocused but they find Riku in the dark. “Home,” he repeats, groggy.

They go at Sora’s pace. Riku waits for Sora to find his hands and feet, to find his balance, and to find his body on the ship. Riku waits for Sora to stumble to the door like he’s learning how to walk all over again, and he waits for Sora at the bottom of the ramp. He waits for Sora to start crying, but he doesn’t.

“Home,” Sora repeats, his voice lighter. There’s still sleep at its edge, waves waiting to pull him under and leave him drowning, but there’ll always be the ocean. There’ll always be Sora and there’ll always be the ocean, and Riku makes a thousand idiotic metaphors and stands there like an idiot, watching him. The moon washes over Sora and he raises his head to the heavens, letting the smell, the sounds, the safety wash over him.

And then he raises his arms, hands balled into fists, and he lets out a scream. “HOME!” He laughs it, he screams it, and Riku stands there like he’s watching art. Sora spins with his arms up, and Riku realizes that the only reason not screaming with Sora is because he thinks he’s dreaming. He thinks Sora’s not home and he thinks this is cruel, but when Sora shoves his jacket off his shoulders, revealing tan skin covered in scars, oh—Riku knows this is no dream.

“Home,” Riku repeats and Sora looks at him. He must’ve thought the same thing, and then, all at once, they have the same epiphany: oh. You’re real. You’re so, so real.

They run to each other and they tackle each other to the sand. They run hands all over each other, trying to see what a year has done to them—taller, stronger, shorter, weaker, they say all the words to each other because that’s what the year has done to them. It tore them apart and stitched them back together with a broken needle and they’re torn goods now. They’re the dolls on the shelves that no one will buy and Sora buries his head into Riku’s neck, letting out a scream.

And Riku knows he doesn’t deserve Sora. Riku knows it, Riku knows that when the sun comes out, they’ll set out for their friends. And Riku knows it’ll be fucking beautiful. Riku knows there’ll be hell to come, but Riku knows it’ll be beautiful to see Sora, Sora going home. And he knows, that means with Kairi, and Riku knows he’s not there.

But that’s not now. That’s beyond this night, and tonight, Riku holds Sora. He holds Sora tightly and oh, he’s real. This is his Sora shaking, this is his Sora breathing, this is his Sora home.

He brought Sora home.

He brought Sora home, and the thought makes Riku want to sob all over again from relief. Sora. Home. They’re the same word, and they’re finally together.

How long is forever? However long that is is how long it takes before they stop tackling each other into the sand, their violent love on display. They’re lying on the sand of the island they grew up on, sprawled out, hands barely touching each other. Sora’s free hand plays with his necklace and they stare at the stars, because—what do they say?

No, it’s not that they don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s that they don’t know where to start, but they’re tired. Riku’s tired.

It’s the only reason Riku let himself hold Sora too long, too many times, and the guilt gnaws at him. How dare he? How dare he let Sora risk his life, let Sora fade away from existence, let Sora spend a year on the edge of reality, and still lay here next to him? How dare he think he let Sora come back and soil him with his darkness? How dare he think he’s worthy of Sora when he knows no amount of redemption can ever make up for his sins?

How dare he indeed, and he doesn’t flinch away when Sora runs a thumb over the side of his hand. The touch is soothing, grounding, and Riku takes in a shaky breath. He’s tired—he’s so tired, and he turns his head to Sora. He’s staring at the stars, that necklace between his fingers.

Sora seems to sense Riku looking at him. “Feels weird,” he says in a voice so quiet, the tranquil waves almost drown him out. “Being here.”

“A good weird or a bad weird?”

Humming, Sora lets his eyes flutter shut. “Good weird. Very good weird, y’know?”

Riku stops himself from saying no, because how could he relate to any of this? But there’s that part of him standing on the edge of the Realm of Darkness, looking at the Door to Light. How did he go home? Uneventfully.

The world ended and he went home with Sora’s help, uneventfully, swimming back to the islands. It was right and it was wrong and it was all sorts of weird that Riku couldn’t explain. He doesn’t get this, but there’s always him leaning on the fruit tree feeling too big for it.

So Riku nods, feeling Sora’s fingers flex against his.

“I think I get it,” Sora says suddenly, his voice a strange tone. “What you and Vanitas were talking about. The darkness and stuff.”

“Yeah?” Ventus told Riku vaguely about what happened with Vanitas, what Sora had said to him. Riku only pursued his lips and went back to analyzing datascapes.

“Yeah. It only took me literally dying to get that, so. That’s something.” Sora lets out a deep sigh and Riku has to suppress the urge to smile. It’s so incredibly Sora to already get to joking about it, trying to turn it into something he’s not afraid to talk to others about. And Riku knows that fear, but that’s just about the worst of it: understanding Sora to the point of not being able to help him.

Riku only hums, carrying on Sora’s joke. Maybe Sora doesn’t want help right now. Maybe he doesn’t want Riku the Hero or Riku the Wielder—maybe he wants Riku from Destiny Islands and maybe Riku wants to be that boy. “Maybe you should try therapy. Dying every time to get some sort of epiphany would suck.”

“You’re one to talk!” Sora’s fingers run over Riku’s hand one last time before he sits up, restlessness overtaking his exhaustion, stars pouring over his soft, sad face. “You practically killed yourself to redeem yourself!”

Fingers still ghosting over one another, Riku sits up as well, nodding solemnly. “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Hm, I’ve been a bad influence, haven’t I?”

Sora’s fingers tighten their hold on Riku’s hand. “The worst!”

With a one-shouldered shrug, Riku figures, “Alright, we’ll both get therapy.”

Sora scrunches up his nose. “Where?”

“Uh.” Riku blinks. “What do you mean where?”

“Well, who do we talk to?” Sora glances at the ocean for a moment and so does Riku, just to make sure it’s still there. To make sure the world didn’t fall away at the slightest mention of them getting better. To make sure the world remained so Sora could run in it. “Is there a Gummiphone therapy app? Is the King a trained therapist?”

Riku’s heart skips a beat. “Oh no, the King. Ohh, he’ll kill me for going after you.”

Sora blinks, before biting back a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, he’ll hug me and then you, and then he’ll sit me down and scold me in that really nice way of his.” Free hand running over his face, Riku pulls up his knee and settles his arm on it, leaning. The other is still in Sora’s. Sora doesn’t seem to want to let go any time soon. “I think he got tired of me holding everything in all by myself, so this isn’t doing me any favors. He wanted me to ask for help and instead—”

“You dove for me, all over again?”

Something in Sora’s voice makes Riku hesitate, but he drops it. He’s not Riku the Lovesick Boy. He’s Riku from Destiny Islands, and he clicks his tongue. “Yeah.”

“Do you regret it?”

This time, Sora’s voice sounds sure like Sora’s voice should—though Sora shouldn’t be sure about anything right now, so that’s a concern of its own. “Nope.”

“Hm. Then I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind.” Sora sticks his tongue out. “And if he did, you’re a suck-up, and you’ll get him to like you again—”

“First off, I’m not a suck-up.”

“Secondly?”

“...secondly, he’d probably be happy if we asked him for therapy so then he’d stop being mad—”

“Suck-up!”

Sora laughs and it’s a disgusting sound. It wrenches in Riku’s heart and it makes him laugh as well, even more disgusting. Stupid joy surrounds them, the scenarios in their head overtaking them, and Riku isn’t sure whose laughter hurts him more. He lets it hurt. They’re giggling over absolutely nothing and Riku lets it burn, lets it plunge into his chest, and lets it eat him whole. He lets his laughter disgust him and he lets Sora’s laughter suffocate him.

It fades as quickly as it began, but the hurt remains. And so does Sora’s hand.

“Okay, okay,” Sora starts, catching his breath. “So, other than King Mickey, who can we even ask? Is that a thing Keyblade Wielders are even allowed to do?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Aqua. Terra. Ventus. The King. They carried a lot on their own.” Sora looks out to the ocean. His face falls. “Are we allowed to be saved? Or are we just supposed to carry things on our own, because…I don’t think I can carry all this on my own. I can’t anymore.”

Riku looks at the ocean differently this time, trying to find what realization Sora just found, but he finds nothing but the darkness staring back. The waves only take the two friends’ whispers out to sea to turn into foam and fade to the bottom. “I can help you.”

Sora scoffs, not unkindly. “I don’t want you to carry it either. You’re my friend, not my therapist.”

I can be anything you want. Riku from Destiny Islands shrugs. “I could get a license for you.”

“Of course, you would.” Warmly, Sora turns his head and smiles at Riku, all the smile he can muster. It’s like his laughter took the joy left in his body, but Riku’s grateful just to see Sora. Sora, Sora, Sora, it’s like his heart suddenly realizes all over again that Sora’s here, and he digs his fingers into the sand. Sora only holds his hand tighter, like he could somehow feel Riku’s heart. “Hm, you think the islands have therapy?”

The realization that they’re here, they’re home, they’re alive brings joy, enough joy for them to burst out into sudden, surprised laughter. The islands having therapy? It’s more absurd than Riku deserving Sora or Riku being a Keyblade Master or Sora being here. But Sora’s here and it brings Riku so much joy, that he lets out another chuckle, looking up at the sky.

There’s a reason they wanted to leave these islands—but they keep coming back.

“Oh, your aunt!” Riku pauses for a moment to see if Sora wants him to stop. This veers on the edge of home and loneliness. If Sora wants to stop, of course, he’d stop. He’d stop talking for the rest of his life if Sora said the word, but Sora says nothing. “She got therapy once, didn’t she?”

Sora’s lip turns and he looks like he wants to say he doesn’t remember until he sighs. “Nah, that was a divorce. Wait, did she say it was therapy?”

“Oh.” Riku lets out an amused huff of air. His aunt was a character. “Maybe you should get a divorce.”

Sora snorts. “From who?”

“I don’t know, we can forget you some documents. Make up some,” Riku makes sure his hesitation doesn’t show, “spouse for you.”

The word doesn’t even faze Sora. He pulls at a loose thread in his pants, these clothes all too unfamiliar to him. “I don’t think she even remembers me.”

“Really? You think she wouldn’t remember the kid she’s been taking care of for the last fifteen years?”

“Yeah.” Sora’s voice doesn’t even sound defeated. It’s just a fact of his life, like it’s a fact of Riku’s that his own caretaker ditched him the moment he was capable of making his own food, like it’s a fact that they’ve all been on their own for most of their lives. No adults to fix things and only to break them.

Riku’s gotten pretty good at doing both. “Actually, I think you’re right. She probably gets confused when someone mentions us.”

“She’s probably so relieved she can drink her wine in peace now.” Riku remembers being smaller and chasing Sora out of the house in a way that made him think Riku was mad when he just didn’t want Sora to see his aunt drunk and stumbling over her feet. Riku remembers taking care of Sora a lot when he was younger and wonders if he’s doing a good job of that now. He hopes. “Oh, we could steal it from her. Maybe that’s the therapy she was talking about. Glug, glug, glug.”

Sora accents his words with a jerk of his hand, thumb and pinky sticking out, toward his mouth. Riku can only give a weak smile back. Sora from Quadratum has a very different sense of humor than Sora from Destiny Islands. “We’ve taken so many classes on why you shouldn’t drink. It doesn’t make you feel any better—the opposite, really.”

“Well, pick your vice: drinking or dying.”

“That’s kind of the same thing?”

“Noooo… ‘s not. Yeah, it is.” Sora’s face falls. “I’ve never even thought about alcohol until now. I’m sorry. I feel weird. And, maybe it’s a bad weird. I don’t know. I don’t feel like me.”

Sora from Quadratum is a very different Sora from Sora from Destiny Islands, but Riku loves every Sora. Good-weird Sora and bad-weird Sora, and Riku loves Sora even when he’s not Sora. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask for Sora right now. I’ll only ask for you.”

Hesitatingly, Sora slips his hand from Riku’s, and Riku resists the urge to chase after those rough fingers. He does nothing as Sora stands, rubbing his bare arms and looking out to the ocean. The island boy in him shines as he stares out to the waves.

“Is this…” Sora’s facing away from Riku but he can only imagine the expression Sora’s wearing. “Is this selfish of me? I’m supposed to be strong for my friends. And I’m hiding here instead. Isn’t this selfish? Isn’t that cruel?”

Riku rises to his feet as well, standing behind Sora, glancing at the sea beckoning them to whisper their deepest, most cannibalistic desires, the selfishness that gnaws at them. Riku entertains his thoughts only for a moment. Sora’s most selfish desire is wanting to be okay. Riku’s most selfish desire is wanting Sora.

“Should I answer?”

“I want you to. I trust you, Riku.”

It’s selfish how pleased that makes Riku. “No, it’s not selfish. It’s not cruel. And it won’t ever be.”

Riku takes a step forward and Sora turns to look at him. Blue eyes pierce through Riku, and they’re confused and conflicted and they’re every shade of hurt and harm that Riku has ever run into. It’s not Sora and it is. Sora was buried somewhere in these sands and Sora’s buried somewhere inside this beautifully broken boy.

“We’ll wait here until you find Sora again,” Riku tells him. “If you even find him. And if you don’t, we’ll find you, and you can meet Sora’s friends and they can meet you. They’ll be so happy to meet you again.”

Something flashes in Sora’s eyes. “...I don’t deserve you.”

The pleasantry that was flowing through Riku’s blood turns cold. His face scrunches up and Sora shifts his weight in response because that’s not how this story goes. Riku saves the Prince and the Prince gets his Princess—and it’s not that Riku does or doesn’t deserve the Prince, it’s that the Prince is the Prince. He deserves everything and everyone, but he’s standing here all broken, because—

Because he is broken. Torn goods.

Just like Riku.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Sora says, a horrible explanation. “Thank you for…being here with me, and talking, and…listening. Thank you for listening. Thank you for bringing me home. Thank you for…being Riku. I don’t deserve you, and I don’t ever want to. I don’t want you to bring me home and I don’t want to bring you home. I…want to be here and chase you in races. I want to be right here, and not… And I want to save our friends, and… I don’t know. You’re here. Thank you for being here.”

The words resonate with Riku’s heart but not with his mind. “Where else would I be? It’s not home without you.”

“Hah. Sap.” It’s an empty and familiar insult.

“Says you.” Riku remembers having these kinds of conversations with himself—well, not quite himself. He’d sit up in bed, and imagine Sora was at the doorway, plagued by a nightmare Riku couldn’t heal. Sora would ask to stay. Riku wouldn’t even tease him. They’d lie down together. And then they would talk. Did those conversations prepare Riku for this? “...and I don’t deserve you either. I don’t think I ever have.”

Sora pursues his lips and turns back to the ocean, his arms moving to hang behind his back, the same way Kairi always stands. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re both sappy dead losers, huh? We don’t have to feel bad about being together.”

A lump forms in the back of Riku’s throat. “Don’t feel bad about not being with our friends, Sora.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“...No. I don’t.” Sora grips his arm tightly. “I don't think I’ll ever know or I’ll ever understand anything ever again.”

“It’ll pass.”

“Will it?” he asks, weight trailing his words. Riku should know, right? He seems to know everything after crawling through the darkness, after surviving. If anyone would know, it would be Riku.

And Riku doesn’t know a damn thing. “I don’t know. All I know is…I’ll be here, Sora, even when you don’t know. Even when you get lost, I’ll bring you back—”

Sora turns and quickly wraps his arms around Riku’s waist, who lets out a grunt. He holds on tightly, so tight that Riku feels every beat of Sora’s heart—perhaps that’s his own. No, it’s both of theirs, beating in tune to the same fear, the same love. “You’ll be here, but you can’t go. You can’t bring me back and then leave.”

Riku would never but—he can’t even hold Sora now, can he?

A lot of people say that Riku’s brave for facing the darkness—but it takes a lot more bravery for him to work past his selfishness and selflessness, and maybe it takes the most bravery to just stand here with Sora. Maybe it takes the most bravery to not run, to not save Sora and leave him with the shards of their lives, of their friendship.

Like gently taking the shards out of Sora’s body, Riku returns the gesture and wraps his arms around Sora’s body. There’s tension that visibly released and Sora whispers, “Swear it. Swear you won’t go.”

“I won’t go. I swear. If you go, I’ll bring you back, and if I go, you can bring me back.”

It takes Sora a moment before he believes Riku, pulling away with a shaky breath. His shoulders shake with the effort of holding back tears, and he steps away from Riku. His eyes are unreadable, and he opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it, and then opens it again to finally speak.

“I meant it. When I said I get it—the darkness.” His tone is strange, stranger than it’s been all day, and he takes a small step backward. “I’m remembering so many things, Riku. I’ve figured a ton of things out, too.”

Riku cocks his head to the side and offers Sora a soft, reassuring smile. “Yeah? Do you want to tell me?”

An amused breath escapes Sora, warm in comparison to his cold fear, because of course he would. He wrings his wrists in front of him and swallows his fear away—and away goes Sora from Quadratum and Sora from Destiny Islands and Sora from nowhere. This is just Sora, all the Soras that have ever been, and all the Soras that will ever be. This is Sora, exhausted and unfiltered, having learned too much and being unable to share any of it; except for now. The rest of the world may forget later, but Sora can’t, and so, Riku will not. Riku will hold on to whatever Sora has to say.

“I’ve finally found the darkness I’ve been holding back.” Riku only nods. “And…I can’t say I love it. I know, I know, the balance and everything, but I hate it. I hate it and—it’s a part of me, right? It’s the shadow of my body, and I know it’s mine and I can’t hate it if I want to live, but. I…”

Sora lets out a groan, running a hand through his hair, before taking yet another step back, frustrated. Riku’s lack of reaction other than fondness seems to drive Sora insane. He pulls some hairs out before he drops his hands, eyes wild and warm. “I want to share it with you. I want to share my darkness with you, Riku.”

Riku gives a reaction now. This was stranger than Sora saying he didn’t deserve Riku. That, Riku knew was just wrong, and yet he understood; this? This just left Riku looking at the sand, trying to figure out how to react.

And this reaction seems to make Sora even more frustrated, and Riku wonders what other things he must’ve learned all by himself. “Tell me why.”

“Sora…why what?”

“Why not?”

Riku swallows and shakes his head, reaching for Sora. Sora’s fingers twitch, staring at that hand, before he flicks them against one another. “Riku, I just…I don’t know how to say this. I don’t know what to say or what to do, and I don’t know if it’s mean of me to stay here when I know our friends have been worried, and I don’t know when, if we can ever go back home and just live out our days, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to even want that. I don’t know anything, but I know this much.” His voice quivers. “I know this much. So why?”

“I…don’t understand you.”

Riku does understand Sora. More than anyone.

“Why, Riku? Why can’t we have simple? Easy? Why can’t we be happy, why can’t you let yourself be happy? Is it that you—” Sora cuts himself off, shaking. He’s not crying, but emotions have fully taken over him. This is the most passionate Riku has seen Sora ever since they’ve reunited.

When this all began, Riku remembers telling Sora to take care of Kairi. Sora must’ve been thinking the same thing—why? And it’s all over Sora’s face now, written in bold marker so Riku can’t deny his understanding.

It’s beautiful and it’s horrible and it fills Riku with the feeling of falling when Sora looks into his eyes, determined and vulnerable. “Is it that you don’t love me?”

Riku does understand Sora and it’s the horrible kind of understanding that comes with loving someone your whole life. Riku has no idea how Sora knows. It’s horrible and—it’s relieving, and Riku feels dread befall him and fade away when he whispers, “I love you so much that I wonder if it’s the only thing I’ll ever feel.”

Sora’s breath catches. His words fail him and he gives Riku a shaky smile. It’s a smile he knows Sora will never wear again, a smile Riku doesn’t have time to memorize, and there’s a selfish part of Riku that wants to run right now and bury his head into his pillow, and trace the smile into the constellations, so he can remember every tremble of his lips. But Riku stays, and oh, he lets himself hope. There’s dread and there’s beauty and there’s metaphors and whatever the hell there always is, but now there’s the hope that with his love—

Sora, too.

Sora, too.

Sora’s home.

And Sora, too. Sora, too, with that happy look on his face. Not Kairi.

“So why not?” Hands shaking gently, Sora holds them up and balls them into weak fists. It’s such a Sora-esque thing to do and it makes Riku feel like he’s dying. “If…I’m your light, and you’re mine, why can’t we share our darkness?”

“Are you okay with it?”

If Riku wasn’t dying, he’d cringe at how small his voice sounded.

“I want it, Riku. I didn’t know it could be you. And now…”

Just before Sora went missing, he told Kairi to take care of Riku. In his last moments, he was looking out for Riku, and Kairi told him this later and it hurt Riku so much—why would Sora even care? He was dying, and he wanted to save Riku anyway.

Now, Riku’s voice fails him and so Sora pours it all out, pours all his fears and hopes and the ocean listens, the ocean quietly crashes on the shore of the two boys’ new homes. “I’m here, Riku. I’m here, no matter what’s next. I want to, Riku. I want to go home and— I want to make a new home. I want all of it, Riku, I want all of you. I… I love you, Riku.”

Riku’s heart stops altogether. Sora’s fingers open from the fist, asking, and Riku is eager to return the touch, their fingers entangling. (Selfish, selfish, selfish, you’re soiling him, a voice in Riku cries. I don’t want to ever let go, Riku responds.)

Sora’s smile wobbles and turns sideways, all sappy and all Sora. “I’ve loved you through everything. I just didn’t know! It’s you, Riku, it’s always been you!”

Sora sounds so excited to finally say this and Riku holds on tighter because his knees are weak. Of course, Sora would be excited to profess his love to someone—and the thought crashes into Riku again, that Sora is here, Sora is home, Sora is holding him, Sora loves him, and Sora is telling him he loves him.

So Riku has nothing else he can say but, “It’s always been you, Sora. It’s always had to be you.”

Shoulders shaking, Riku’s light in the dark smiles brightly, brilliantly under the moon and starlight. Quadratum, hell, nothing can take Sora away from Sora, and it can bury Sora, and Sora will need a thousand nights to find Sora, but he’s here, he’s grinning, he’s Sora always and forever. “So we don’t have to carry it alone, Riku! Our light, our darkness—give me yours and I’ll give you mine.”

“You’ve already had my light.”

“Well, give me your darkness, too. And…”

“And we’ll go home,” Riku finishes and Sora lets out a happy breath of air.

“And…we’ll go home. We’re finally going home, Riku.”

When Sora went missing, Kairi quietly asked Riku to take care of him. And there wasn’t a single fiber in Riku’s being that thought he could do otherwise, thought he could sleep a night without Sora in the next room, even if he refused to touch him. So of course, Riku nodded and held Kairi until she stopped shaking.

“Home,” Riku repeats.

They do the only thing they figure comes next. They hold each other until they stop shaking, touching, and tracing scars on their bodies until their fingers lock in each other’s hair. Sora has to lean back and Riku peer down and their bodies, so out of touch with the world, fit so well together. Like they were made as one and pulled apart into a pair, and oh, Riku’s thoughts are spiraling. Sora. Sora, Sora, Sora.

They’ll be each other’s light; they’ll be each other’s darkness; they’ll be each other’s, even if it’s just for tonight, until they have to fight again. And even then, they’ll be together.

Riku lets himself enjoy it. He lets himself selfishly enjoy how his heart feels so full, so right, how the weight that’s been following him turns into joy and adoration. He lets himself enjoy how chap Sora’s lips are when he kisses them.

Once, twice, three times, they kiss and they don’t know what they’re doing, but the ocean whispers them on, and the stars bear witness to their love, and—the world is still whole.

Holding Sora like he’ll disappear, Riku kisses Sora like his life depends on it. They’re horrible kisses, teeth knocking into each other, noses bumping, lots of tired giggling, and Riku doesn’t think he could handle something romantic, something so un-Sora. This is what he wants; this is what he needs. Sora, Sora, Sora’s home, Sora’s in his arms, Sora’s here.

Riku cries and Sora kisses his tears. Sora’s lips linger on his skin and they’re so close, they’re so, so close, and Sora’s home, Sora’s home, Sora’s finally home.

They have a lot to talk about, but they’re tired now. Their limbs lead each other to the sand, and they collapse, curling into one another, counting each other’s heartbeats (they’re in sync, they realize). Sora’s head rests on Riku’s chest. Riku’s arm hangs around Sora’s body. Riku wonders if anyone else can feel Sora’s heart, back in their world—Riku hopes they don’t mind that they’re still here.

But that’s tomorrow’s problem. That’s a little later on when the sun finally rises.

Until then, Sora’s fulfilled his oath to protect Kairi; Kairi’s fulfilled his oath to protect Riku; and Riku’s fulfilled his oath to protect Sora.

He’s ready for tonight’s oath.

Sora shifts in Riku’s arms. “I missed the sand,” he whispers. “The city is cold.”

“The sand missed you,” Riku whispers back. “I don’t think the city liked you.”

“Excuse me? The city loved me.”

“Right, sorry. That’s why they were so eager to get rid of you.”

Sora giggles and Riku’s heart doesn’t soar—it sinks into his skin until all feels right. Until he feels like dawn and he feels reborn, until he feels like all the Rikus that have ever been, the ones who deserve Sora and the ones who don’t, the ones who have loved and the ones who have forgotten. All the Rikus stitched together with Sora’s laughter, no longer torn goods.

Riku looks down at Sora running his fingers over the crown necklace. “You said you were remembering things.”

“I did.” Sora grins. “I’m remembering a lot.”

“Yeah.” Riku squeezes Sora. “Like what?”

“Like…falling in love with you.”

Tonight’s oath is the same he’s been fulfilling his whole life: loving Sora.

It'll be tonight's and the next, and the next. They'll be in the sand tonight and with their friends tomorrow, and then back on that tree, fruit between each other's lips.

“I remember too,” Riku admits, and it feels so easy. Was it always this easy? To have been with Sora all along? “I remember every time I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Sora’s fingers go still for a moment, before he quietly asks, “...Every time?”

“Every time,” Riku admits. And for the first time, he says out loud, straightforwardly, without trying to hide it behind any other feeling of denial or of desperation: “I love you, Sora. I… I love you, through light and darkness, life and death.”

“You should’ve told me, you sap,” Sora mumbles. Before Riku can respond, Sora cranes his neck up to look Riku in the eye and smile softly. “You should’ve told me so I could’ve figured it out sooner so I could’ve told you I loved you, too. Because I love you, Riku. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And they whisper it back and forth to each other, those three words like it’s their lifeline. It’s simple and it’s complicated and it’s everything they’ve figured out and everything they have to work out. It fuels Riku and his oath, and it makes him weak and it makes him nothing and it makes him everything. It makes his heart pound and he can sense Sora’s as well, and Riku wonders for the thousandth time if he’ll ever feel anything other than this.

Maybe he will. It wouldn’t be horrible if he didn’t. It wouldn’t be so horrible if the rest of his life was in the bliss of loving Sora and being loved by him. If this was where his oath led him. It wouldn’t be horrible if this was all that would ever be left of him: loving Sora.

And then, at last, they fall asleep in each other’s arms—finally home.